


Beneath Our Balcony

by salishseaselkie



Series: Thistle Thine, Rose Mine [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salishseaselkie/pseuds/salishseaselkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is being very mysterious...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Our Balcony

Rhona stood, leaning against the balcony overlooking the courtyard below the room she shared with Alistair. Down below, he was digging, and for what purpose, she could not fathom. Of course, she was content to watch. His face was smeared with earth, his linen shirt clung to his sweaty body to delineate his muscles, and even more than that, the servants looked on, nervous about a royal doing manual labor, which Rhona found mildly amusing. Some of the younger women gawked, giggling to each other, until they noticed Rhona narrowing her eyes at them, at which cue they returned to their chores.

She wondered what her husband was up to. Their fourth anniversary had been three months ago, so it couldn’t have been anything for her. Then again, her birthday was coming up - her twenty-fifth. Alistair always hated it when her birthday came up - she was a month older than him, and she loved to gloat about it. He would always accuse her of being childish for it, and then she would tease him for being grumpy, to which he would toss her over his shoulder and throw her in their bed to tickle her and wrestle her down - and often she would more than willingly submit.

As she watched him dig a hole in the ground, she lost herself in the movements of his muscles, feeling the familiar arousal bloom in the base of her body. She’d been rather fortunate in finding him, something she told herself often. All her young life, she’d snubbed all proposals; all suitors who came for her received the same treatment - a cold shoulder and a consistent stream of tasteless, shameless practical jokes, which her mother grew exceedingly exasperated over. Marriage had been all business and no personality. She would have nothing to do with the clean-cut sons of the lesser banns. Their only interests were climbing the social ladder, and Rhona had only been too willing to give them every reason to seek it elsewhere.

Then she’d met Alistair, poor and humble, and she’d wanted nothing less than him. By rights, he should have broken her heart. By rights, he should have been a disappointment, for all those hearts she broke, for all the suitors she’d openly loathed. In reality, he’d only ever been her every dream come true, and she thanked Andraste every day for him.

She leaned forward and called to him, caprice in her eyes. “Your Majesty, what will your people think of you when they see you covered in naught but sweat and dirt?” He looked up at her and grinned, setting the shovel point down and leaning on the handle.

“Well, you see, my wife’s birthday is coming up, and I thought that, being that she loves to tease me about being oh so much older than I am, I’d dig a hole so I can toss her in and never have to hear of it again.” Rhona threw her head back and laughed loudly.

He chuckled too, and she shrugged. “All right,” she conceded. “Keep your secrets.” He wiped his nose with the cuff of his sleeve and called up to her.

“Shall we have some lunch?”

Alistair came upstairs and sat on one of the chairs while Rhona, sitting in his lap, wiped his face with a wet cloth. She scolded lightly, “You are filthy, Alistair. Whatever possessed you to start digging that hole?” He winced as the cloth came too close to his eye. “Sorry.” Their lunch, which was hardly touched, was laid out in lovely display of fruits and bread and cheeses and cold meats and wine. Rhona grabbed for a strawberry and bit into it, still looking at Alistair, awaiting an answer. “Well? What is it?”

He snorted and answered with feigned irritation, “None of your business, that’s what.” He grabbed the hand that clutched the damp cloth and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You’ll see; don’t you worry.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

She asked hesitantly, suspicion lacing her voice, “What are you up to?” He took the cloth and tugged, taking it away from her and putting it into the basin that sat on their table. He put an arm beneath her knees and carried her to their bed. Before he claimed her lips to make love to her, he said, “Patience, my dear wife.”

The next morning, Rhona awoke in her bed, naked as usual, and reached over for her husband. When she felt only more sheets and pillows, she jerked up. Alistair never got out of bed without waking her first. She looked around the room. He was nowhere to be seen.

Then she saw the glass doors to the balcony were flung wide open. She threw on a robe, pale lilac silk, and walked over to close them. The sun peeked over the walls of the palace in pale hues of blue and lavender and cream, and she breathed deep of the crisp morning air, letting it wash over her like a dream. Her reverie broke when she heard the scraping of a shovel again. She smirked.

When she peeked over, she saw Alistair patting the earth down with the flat of the blade - the hole was gone, and in its stead was a small, scraggly looking shrub. She frowned. Andraste’s flaming sword, what did he think he was doing so early?

She opened her mouth to sardonically ask what kind of weed he was trying to stick below her perfect balcony when she realized what it was. Her heart melted. "Oh, you daft man…“ At the sound of her murmuring, Alistair looked up and smiled sheepishly at the rose bush he’d just planted.

"I…well, I convinced Teagan to find it for you…he said he had to go to Waking Sea to fetch it. He tells me the petals will be red, like the one I gave you…all that time ago. And…” He scratched his neck nervously. “Well, I didn’t think it fair that Teagan did all the work…” Rhona’s face felt like it would crack in half for how big her smile was.

She held out a hand, motioning him to wait. “Stay there,” she ordered. She closed the balcony doors and ran for the stairs that led down to the courtyard. She opened the wooden door to the morning and went sailing into her husband’s arms, knocking him over.

“Oooph!” She knocked the wind out of him as they hit the dirt, and the disturbed earth squelched with the morning dew under their weight. Alistair’s hands came up to catch her at the waist. Alistair looked accosted, and tried to defend himself. “Look, I know it isn’t the best looking bush eve–” Rhona silenced him with a devouring kiss, hands in his hair, and she laughed to herself. How funny they must have looked, the two reigning monarchs kissing in the dirt by a measly little bush.

His arms tightened around her, and he murmured, “Happy Birthday, wife of mine. I hope you like your present.” She giggled as she kissed him again.

“It’s perfect, sweet husband of mine.”


End file.
